"Let me walk you up," Tom said quickly.
She looked at him, something unreadable in her expression. Then nodded.
Tom fell into step beside her as they walked up the path to her door. Close enough to feel her warmth but not touching. That careful distance they'd been maintaining all day.
The afternoon sun was weak through the clouds, casting everything in gray winter light. It was that strange time of dayin January where it felt later than it was—the days still short, darkness always threatening at the edges.
Lauren fumbled with her keys. Her hands were shaking—from the cold or from emotion, Tom couldn't tell.
She got the door open. Turned to face him.
"Tom—"
He couldn't help himself. "Can I see you again? Tomorrow? Next week? Whenever you're ready?"
Lauren's eyes searched his face. She nodded.
Hope flared bright and painful in his chest. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She twisted the letter in her hands.
They stood there on her porch, the afternoon cold settling around them. Tom knew he should leave. But he couldn't make himself move.
Lauren was looking at him with those eyes that had always undone him. Red-rimmed from crying, but still so achingly beautiful it made his chest hurt.
"Lauren," he said, and her name came out rough. Desperate.
She stepped closer. Just one step, but it closed the distance between them in a way that made Tom's breath catch.
"I meant every word."
Her voice broke slightly. "That's what makes this so hard."
Tom's hands came up slowly, giving her time to pull away. She didn't. His palms cupped her face, his thumbs brushing acrossher cheekbones. She was so cold. Had been standing in the snow with him for hours and was probably freezing.
"You're cold," he murmured.
"I'm okay."
She wasn't okay. They both knew it. But she was here, standing this close to him, letting him touch her face.
Tom leaned in slowly. She didn't pull away.
His lips met hers, gentle and careful. A question more than a statement. She made a small sound—something between a sigh and a sob—and her hands came up to grip the front of his coat.
Tom deepened the kiss. Weeks of shame and regret and missing her with his whole body. His whole being. All of it pressed into this moment, this kiss, this woman who deserved so much better than him but was letting him hold her anyway.
Lauren’s fingers twisted in his coat, pulling him closer, and Tom went willingly. Wrapped his arms around her and held her against him the way he'd been aching to do all day.
When they finally broke apart, Lauren's forehead rested against his chest. Tom pressed his lips to her hair, breathing her in.
"I should go inside," she whispered against his coat.
"I know."
But neither of them moved. They stood there wrapped around each other on her porch, the winter afternoon fading around them.
Finally, Lauren pulled back. Her eyes were wet again, her lips slightly swollen from kissing. She looked wrecked and beautiful and Tom wanted to pull her back in and never let go.
